


Some Change Is Good

by Byutsuno



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ??? not really, Big Emotions, Dealing with Emotions, Hurt/Comfort, also; jamie gets glasses, jamie has big emotions and roadhog helps him figure them out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8478718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byutsuno/pseuds/Byutsuno
Summary: When Jamison is given prescription glasses by the team medic, he can't help but feel as if a part of him is being taken away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for jamie uwu 
> 
> i promised id write this months ago and i just finished it :') why are you still friends with me?

“Hana, there you are!” Angela strode into the living room towards the younger member sprawled out on the large couch, black console controller in hand. At the call of her name, she looked up, a piece of candy hanging from her mouth. 

Hana sat up properly at the presence of her elder. “Wassup-- er, yes?” 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, I need your opinion on…” Angela’s bright blue eyes trailed over to the third member in the room. “Jamison…” 

“You need my opinion on Junky?” Hana scratched her head sheepishly. “He’s cool I guess. Total noob at gaming though.” 

“Oi!” Jamison spat, turning away from the large screen to give her a dirty glare. “I’m tryin’ me best!” 

“No, no. Sorry to confuse you, darling. I meant; Jamison, you are sitting much too close to the screen.” Angela put her hands on her hips, shaking her head with a pout. “You will damage your eyes, Jamison. Move back.” 

Jamison furrowed his brows, not budging from his seat mere inches away from the glowing screen. “Can’t see a thing if I do, Doc.” 

Angela raised a thin eyebrow at the statement. She was sure Winston calculated the proper distance for maximum comfort. Hana did not seem to have any problems with the distance, seeing as she was currently digging herself even deeper into the thick pillows while the game was paused. For good measure, Angela sat down on the couch and read the words displayed on screen, big and small, before returning her attention back to the cross legged Junker squinting at the screen even from the close distance. 

“Jamison, do you perhaps wear glasses?” Angela questioned, pulling out a small notepad from her pocket. 

“Don’t need ‘em.” Jamison mumbled. 

Angela scribbled something down quickly. “Mhm, yes, can you tell me what this says?” She showed the paper to the younger man, smiling patiently. 

Jamison squinted. Angela waited. Jamison leaned forward to the point that he was on all fours in the middle of the living room, squinting at a piece of paper barely a foot away. Hana snickered. 

“Itsa dog, mate.” 

“It’s the Overwatch Team Logo. Follow me please.” Angela stood up with a satisfied smile, waiting quietly by the door while Jamison exchanged a look with Hana, who simply shrugged in response, before scrambling to his feet and hobbling over to the door.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, Jamison. Read what you can, just like I showed you.” Angela gestured to the chart filled with letters hanging on the wall. They started large and gradually shrunk in size as you went further down the chart. 

Mako stood in the corner of the room, sending his partner in a crime an encouraging thumbs up when he looked his way. The smaller Junker imagined him smiling beneath the mask, his eyes crinkling at the corners, crooked teeth bared in an out of character cheeky grin. Jamison took a deep breath to ready himself. He leaned closer, squinting sharply as he read his best guess out loud. 

“Good job! Now…” Angela stepped forwards, placing a pair of thick glasses onto Jamison’s face. She stepped back to the side and pointed at the eye chart. “Try it again, but with the bifocals Winston made just for you.” 

Jamison blinked a few times, eyes scanning the now very detailed room. His wild eyes focused on the chart that seemed much closer now, his mouth stretching into a toothy grin. With a booming voice he read out the letters with confidence, kicking his feet and giggling with glee when he finally figured out what the ‘blasted blorb’ near the corner was. 

Angela smiled proudly, clasping her hands together with joy. Jamison wasted no time in running over to his bigger buddy, eyes wide and filled with childish content behind thick layers of glass. Mako listened intently as Jamison explained how “real” the world looked, picking up every little thing with ease, successfully stepping over every bump in the road as they made their way around headquarters. In a way, Mako was happy that Jamison found a new topic to gush over, even if it was just the fact that shapes and details existed outside of his imagination. 

“Holy… Holy shit, you seein’ this? Roadie! Look!” Jamison pointed at a bonsai tree Zenyatta had been nurturing for the last few weeks. “Lil bugger has leaves! Actual leaves!” 

Mako nodded in recognition, showing the small plant his respect. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Roadie!” Jamison exclaimed, grabbing handfuls of Mako’s stomach in his hands. “How long ‘ave y’had this ink? Always thought ya just had a real wild bellybutton!” 

Mako grunted in response, letting the smaller Junker crawl all over him, examining the many scars on his arms and torso with glee. Jamison poked and prodded freely before his attention was snagged by something else, something even more fascinating. 

He hopped down from Mako’s shoulders and scuttered down the hall to his bedroom. As soon as the door slid open and the mesmerizing smell of gunpowder and chemicals wafted past Jamison’s nose, he was dancing around spare parts and half-finished explosives. 

He grabbed a hand grenade and turned it around in his hands. His eyes scanned the dirty, rusting metal around it and the multi-coloured wires with awe. Just as quickly as he had picked it up, he tossed it behind him into a pile of circuits and grabbed explosive after explosive, examining them with such precision he even scared himself.   

The sound of heavy footsteps and breathing coming from the other side of his door prompted him to look up from the miniature landmines clasped gently in his hands. The door swung open, showing Mako standing taut in its frame. Jamison did not have to see his face to know he was confused and most likely angry after being left behind. Jamison limped over to his friend, bombs in hand. 

“Roadie, Roadie, _Roadie_!” Jamison squeaked. 

“I’m right here, Jamie.” Mako huffed, irritation laced in his voice. 

“Lookie, lookie.” Jamison raised one of the round objects in his hands as high as he could so the taller man could see. “My bombs, yeah? I can see ‘em better now! Can make ‘em better, stronger! I can even see the markings from me screwdriver!” His lips stretched into a nostalgic smile. “Such a klutz, I am, well, was. Won’t be makin’ any more screwups now that I got these new specs, eh? Won’t have to worry about losin’ anymore limbs, right, Roadie?” Jamison looked up at Mako, a hint of sadness in his voice when he spoke. “But…that always was the fun part…” 

Mako reached down and gently took the glasses off of Jamison’s face. Jamison watched woefully as the world blurred before his fire-like eyes again. His head was pounding and his chest was heavy. He took the spectacles from Mako and looked them over, catching himself squinting again. He shoved them into his pocket and watched as Mako’s figure slowly turned into a blurry silhouette as he walked out the door, muttering a rough ‘goodnight’ as he left. 

An awful silence pursued. Jamison was alone with his thoughts. The memories and images ranging from his childhood to the last few years filled his mind and eventually his dreams when he dragged himself to the dusty bed in the corner. The glasses were helpful, they allowed him to see his surroundings and could eventually help him craft better, more functional bombs. Yet he could not shake the feeling that a part of him was being taken. It felt as if Angela was trying to ‘fix’ him and Jamison knew for a fact that he was not broken. He did not break in all his years of struggling to survive in the outback, he did not break when his own friends wanted him dead, and he did not break when countless enemies easily snuck up on him because he could not tell if they were near or far. Jamison Fawkes was not broken and did not need to be fixed.

 

* * *

 

“Mornin’,” Jamison mumbled around a mouthful of food. He kept his head down, eyes averted from whoever walked in. Lucio and Hana had nothing to say other than the normal greetings, Lena wouldn’t be waking up until mid-afternoon, and Mako wasn’t known for small talk. The real trouble started when Angela emerged from her room, on a mission for her morning cup of coffee. 

“Good morning, Jamison.” She yawned with a genuine smile. She brewed herself a small mug of coffee as the others greeted her accordingly before leaving to get ready for the day. It wasn’t until she took the first sip of the dark roast that she finally spoke her mind. “Where are your glasses?” 

“Broke ‘em.” Jamison answered quickly, keeping his head down. 

“No, no you didn’t. I had Winston make them with the same material we used on Genji. If the lenses are damaged, bring them to my office after breakfast.” 

“Lost ‘em.” 

“I gave Mako your spares, why did you not ask him for them?” Angela sipped her coffee calmly. 

“....Don’t need ‘em.” 

“Jamison, I do not like liars. Please tell me the truth.” Angela placed her mug down loudly, her eyes concerned. 

Jamison avoided her gaze, twiddling his thumbs under the table as the silence between them grew thicker. He felt the pit of his stomach twist and dive with every strike of the seconds hand. A cold sweat pricked his paling skin and for the first time in a long time he felt like crying. He was being confronted by someone he barely knew, the very same person who was trying to ‘fix’ him. Who did she think she was? The pool of worry swam dark and boiled over into a heavy, blackened aggravation. 

The Australian stood up loudly, metallic fist slamming down without mercy against the hovering dining table. He opened his mouth, insult after insult, profanity after profanity, crossing his mind. His conscience dared him to speak up, drove him closer to the edge as his heartbeat was deafening loud. He looked up from the white table, just barely making out Mako’s form in the corner of the room, something white and comically small in comparison to his size clasped between his fingers. With those glasses, he’d know exactly what it was. Those goddamned glasses.  

“Jamison..? Jamison, are you alright?” A soft, concerned voice broke him from his stupor. He felt an equally soft palm touch his shoulder gently, dragging his gaze over to the owner. Angela was watching him with a look in her eyes he hated, one that made him feel vulnerable and… Broken. 

“I did not mean to offend you, Jamison. I am sorry if it appeared that way. I just want to help.” Angela punctuated her statement with a frail smile. 

Ah, yes. _Pity_. 

Jamison shrugged her off with such force the doctor gasped and stumbled back. He pushed his chair back aggressively, gritting his teeth as his hands shook by his sides. He thought he heard Mako calling his name but he was too lost in his own thoughts to even consider the possibility of listening to what he had to say. His breathing was hoarse and ragged, his vision blurring from tears, his own bad eyesight, and just how fast he was running.   
He did not stop until he found himself on the roof of the headquarters, staring out at the blurry blue and white mixture of the sky, and the many small buildings below. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the somewhat murky glasses. He looked at them with disdain. Seeing what others saw was nice, but Jamison was not like the others. He had learnt this lesson long ago and did not need a reminder at 25 years old. 

He raised his arm and chucked the spectacles over the edge of the roof, watching out into the horizon as if he could make out just how far they had flown. He watched on with quivering breaths before falling to his knees and letting his mind swim blank. He body felt hazy and cold despite the sun’s harsh rays. 

A rumbling voice came from behind him. “Jamison.” The Junker did not have to turn around to know who it was. 

“After all these years, ya still manage to sneak up on m’ dontcha, Roadie?” His words came out bitter and dry. “...Did the broad send ya?” 

The bodyguard sat down beside his partner in crime silently, looking out at the setting sun peacefully. Jamison drew small circles on the hard floor, feeling like a child all alone in the outback once again.   
The two sat in silence, victim to their own thoughts, until the sun reached a certain point and Mako cleared his throat. Jamison froze, unsure of what to do next. He knew he had done something wrong but if Mako expected him to admit it, he had another thing coming. 

“Change is okay.” 

“Wha?” Jamison’s face crumpled into confusion.  _ Alright… Wasn’t expecting that…  _

“It’s okay for things in your life to change sometimes.” Mako clarified. “You’re afraid of change,” 

“Junkers ain’t afraid of nuthin!-” 

“It’s okay to be afraid.” 

Jamison felt his defenses melt away. He hugged his knees closer to his body, fiddling with the bolts on his peg leg. Mako did not talk much, but because of that, he had more time to think. It was scary just how much Mako thought about without uttering a single word. Jamison found it admirable in a way, being able to keep to yourself even when your life wasn’t on the line.   
Mako was wise. He was much older then Jamison and he knew much more. But he wasn’t sure if he knew much about this. About what Jamison was feeling. 

“Mate… What would y’do if some stranger started actin’ like they know ya better then ya know y’self? Actin’ like you owe ‘em nuthin’ when ya juss met?” 

Mako remained silent, fiddling his thumbs in his lap as he watched the sun fall and the sky load up on stars. 

“I like th’ glasses, they help a lot, but they just ain’t me...“ Jamison did not want to disappoint anyone, he’d done that enough already. His gaze fell to his fingernails, dyed black to match Mako’s. That was a change he had accepted because it didn’t affect his life. The glasses did. They made him see the entire world differently. “I agree witcha, Roadie. Change is okay sometimes… But this is too much…” 

“I talked to Angela.” Mako said. “She said you don’t have to wear them all the time, only when you’re workin’ on your bombs. Winston is tired of having to repair your shop.” 

Jamison look up at Mako, squinting and scanning his body language. He caught sight of the slight glimmer the object in his hands made when they reflected the light and came to the conclusion they were his spares. “Really? She said that?” 

Mako stayed quiet, holding the glasses out in his outstretched palm, beckoning Jamison to take them. 

“Sh’didn’t say that, did she?” Jamison asked, looking back out at the dark, blurry sky. “Bloody liar.” 

“No… But I’m saying it.” Mako jerked his hand towards Jamison slightly. “You’re not fighting for yourself anymore, you’re fighting for me too. And I’ll piss on your grave if you die before I get my half of the treasure.” 

Jamison snickered, the corners of his mouth turning up into a sly smile. He grabbed the glasses from Mako’s large, rough hands and unfolded them. His happy expression faltered for a second as he held them out in front of his face. The spare glasses Angela had given to Mako. They were kind of dull, all white with thick lenses, yet this pair was different. He turned them over and looked intently at the sides. 

“Hog, didya…” Jamison ran his fingers over the sides of the temples. He could just barely make out a small mouse and pig drawn crudely into the sides. He smiled widely, looking over at the only one who could pull something like that off. “Aw, Roadie!-” 

“Lose, break, or 'forget' them somewhere and I’ll kill you.” Mako grunted, forcing himself not to smile when Jamison nodded frantically and slipped the glasses on, cheeks tinted a soft hue of pink. 

“No worries, mate! Not a scratch!” Jamison looked up proudly at the twinkling stars in the vast sky, listening intently when his partner corrected him on constellation names and the such. The cold hard roof of the headquarters mixed with the freedom of the open air reminded the two of the outback. Jamison smiled inwardly. Maybe this change would be good as well.

 

* * *

 

“Go on.” Mako stood at the door, arms crossed, not budging even when the younger pleaded with him. Jamison was a bit in front of him, looking like a guilty kid with his head down, hands behind his back. Angela was sitting at her work station, slightly confused as to what she was being a witness to. “Jamison. Go.” 

Jamison looked back with the saddest gaze he could muster. “But Mako-” 

“ _ Junkrat _ .” A shiver snuck up Jamison’s spine at the harsh tone he had only heard Mako use when interrogating others. If he had learned anything from watching those episodes, he knew not to wait around and get to talking. 

He turned his attention back to Angela, eyes turning cold in an attempt to hide his vulnerability in this situation. 

“Listen, blondie,” 

Mako delivered a harsh smack to the back of Jamison’s head, reminding him of his manners. 

“I’m…. Sorry.” He said through grit teeth. He rubbed the back of his head partially from embarrassment and pain. Mako clearly did not know how to hold back. “I was… Out of line, did som’ dumb stuff, eh? I know my mistakes now, and I’m sorry…” He heard of rustle behind him and quickly added onto his apology. “An’ thanks, for bein’ so nice to a Junker like me.” 

A beat of silence fell between the trio before Angela finally processed what was going on and and smiled warmly. “Oh, Jamison, you do not have to thank me. We are on the same team now, your well-being is always in my mind. Thank you for taking the time to clear things up.” Angela stood up and pulled the Aussie into a comforting hug, ignoring how the smut from his clothes rubbed off onto her white lab coat. 

“This mean we’re good?” Jamison asked hesitantly, body tense from the awkward display of affection. 

“Very.” Angela replied, finally letting Jamison go and returning to her seat. “You’re free to leave, thank you.”  

Jamison jumped with content, running over to Mako who was already making his way down the hall. The Aussie was hobbling after him when he heard Angela pipe up once more. 

“Oh, and Jamison?” 

“Yeah?”

“I like your glasses.” 


End file.
